


rigged

by andnowforyaya



Series: rigged universe [1]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Anal Play, BDSM, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Figging, Kink Exploration, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain, Praise Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Drop, ten meowing a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: "A game?" Ten asks. If he had a tail, it'd be waving around in front of Kun's face right now. "Like when we first started dating?" At Kun's nod, he asks with a sly grin, "How do I win?"





	rigged

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to any who sparked and encouraged this monstrosity  
#

Ten is already awake and sitting at the bar between their kitchen and their living room on a tall stool, glasses nearly slipping off the end of his pointed nose as he reads whatever article he's loaded up on his iPad, by the time Kun stumbles out of the bedroom. He'd been disappointed at first to find the other side of the bed empty and cold. Saturdays are usually a ritual for them -- Kun would wake up and prepare breakfast, and they'd spend most of the morning in bed curled around each other, occasionally sipping at their coffees as whatever Kun had prepared for breakfast went cold. Then they'd decide if they wanted to reheat breakfast for lunch or venture out into the world for a meal and some people watching.

Lately, though, something's been off. Ten has been glued to his iPad, inundated with emails and requests for work, most definitely not sleeping enough hours throughout the night and sneaking cans of Red Bull when he thinks Kun isn't looking. To be fair, Kun isn't taking it easy at his office either, but he's always been a little better at separating himself from his work, at taking the time he needs to unwind.

They make time for each other, sure, but over the past few weeks -- months, maybe, if Kun's really thinking about it -- going out with his partner of six years has felt a bit like going through the motions of attending a meeting at the office.

Kun hates it. Even the sex has gone a bit sideways. Their drawer full of toys has barely been opened for weeks, and when they do find the energy to rummage around in there, they stick with the leather handcuffs and the occasional blindfold. Ten hasn't called Kun _ Sir _in the bedroom for a month now, at least. He misses how they used to play.

He frowns as he approaches Ten, sighing when he drapes himself over his boyfriend’s back and loops his arms around him. "Baby, you're up so early. Are you working?"

"Yeah," Ten mumbles, clearly focused on the email he's reading. "Sorry. Got an angry client I have to deal with. How many times do I have to go back to the project specs? He asked for a prototype by next week, but now he wants it this week. It's just not possible. And Renjun's asked for the day off today..." He puts his iPad down on the counter and reaches under his glasses to rub at his eyes, frustrated. Kun rests his chin on Ten's shoulder, holding him tighter around the waist. "Sorry," Ten whispers. "No work on the weekends. Sorry."

"It's okay, love," Kun whispers back. "I know it's an important client. But he's probably not checking his email at...seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, either, right? This can wait. Wake up first. Have a coffee with me. Let's check out that little gallery downtown you mentioned last week."

"I don't know..."

"Ten." Kun kisses his cheek. When Ten turns to look at him, he steals another kiss from his lips. "Take five hours off with me. Then we'll come back and be sucked back into our emails, okay?"

"Five hours?" Ten cocks his head to the side with an impish smile.

"Five to seven hours," Kun amends. He straightens, keeping his hands on Ten's waist. Ten swivels in his seat and parts his thighs; without a thought, Kun steps between them. "Maybe eight."

"Five to seven or eight hours." Ten hums, pretending to consider it, fingers playing with the hem of Kun's boxers. "I think I can do that."

"There's my good kitten," Kun says in an intentionally low growl of a voice. He marvels at the blush that dances across Ten's cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Ten spreads his knees farther apart, and Kun pushes him against the breakfast counter, the edge of the flat surface undoubtedly digging into Ten's back as he kisses him hungrily. But Ten doesn't complain, and soon enough an hour of the time he's negotiated is spent between his partner's knees in the kitchen as the sun slants in through the windows of their living room, the light crawling up Kun's back.

.

"Ten." Kun tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but it's hard when he's called his boyfriend's name twice already and Ten hasn't heard him, despite walking right next to him. Ten's nose is nearly pressed to the screen of his phone as he chews on his bottom lip, fingers furiously working over the screen. They've made a slow loop around the gallery and Kun doesn't think Ten's actually seen any of the pieces installed within. He definitely does not see the sculpture about two feet in front of him that he's going to run into if no one stops him. 

Kun reaches out to take Ten by the elbow, pulling him close to his side and silencing him with a glare when Ten squawks in protest. "Yongqin," Kun says, nodding to the sculpture, "watch where you're going."

"Oh, I didn't even notice."

"Obviously." Kun drops Ten's elbow and picks up speed to exit the gallery faster. It's not like Ten is enjoying himself, anyway.

"Kun -- wait, Kun. I'm sorry..."

Kun allows Ten to catch up to him outside, on the sidewalk. He doesn't shrug him off when Ten tentatively places his hand on the small of Kun's back, and then curves it around his side when he meets no resistance. "Are you mad at me?" Ten asks in a small voice.

"I'm not," Kun huffs.

"You are," Ten says, rubbing his side. "You called me Yongqin...and you should be. I promised you up to eight hours and I was on my email all morning. I'm sorry..."

“Stop apologizing, Ten,” Kun says, and it comes out much harsher than he intends. Ten flinches, hand pulling away from Kun’s waist, and Kun immediately reaches out to take him into his arms. “Hey, no. No, c’mere. Jeez, it’s been a morning, huh?” When Ten relaxes against him, he continues. “I’m worried about you,” Kun admits. “I’m sorry it came out that way. I just want to spend more time with you, real time, time that you’re not thinking about something else, and it feels like it’s really hard to find that time nowadays, love.”

“I know, I know,” Ten says in a tight voice that Kun recognizes. The tone carries all of Ten’s heightened emotions, and emotions usually mean tears. Quickly, he walks them back over to the gallery entrance but then herds Ten into the doorway next to it instead. He does what he can to block Ten from view, and pulls back just enough to cup Ten’s face in his hands. Sure enough, his cheeks are wet and his eyes glistening. 

“Kitten, oh,” Kun breathes, thumbing away the tears. 

Ten’s returning smile is weak and watery. “I just gotta get through these next couple of weeks, Kun. Then I’m all yours again.”

“Baby, first you have to get through these weeks, and I’m worried at the rate you’re going, it’s going to be a real struggle.”

Ten’s face falls, and he hides in shame against Kun’s shoulder. “Can we talk about this later, please?”

“Of course,” Kun says quietly. “You need a minute to compose yourself?”

Ten nods. Kun pulls out napkins from his jeans pocket and hands them to Ten, who laughs softly and dabs at his face with them gently. “You’re always prepared.”

“I’ve been with you for six years now, Kitten. I know you inside and out.”

“Especially my insides,” Ten quips. He cries out and laughs again when Kun pinches his hip playfully.

“Brat,” Kun says. “I love you. We’re really going to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Ten says nervously. “I love you, too.” He’s quiet for most of the walk home, his hand tucked into the bend of Kun’s elbow.

.

By the time they're home, Kun has a plan. It alarmed Kun a little bit that Ten cried so easily on the street, in public; though Ten definitely isn’t a stranger to his own emotions, he hates coming off as vulnerable, and prefers to hold his breakdowns in until he can cry privately, or alone with Kun. He and Kun are similar, in that regard; it’s a bit harder for Kun to open himself up that way to Ten but over the past couple of years, he’s allowed himself to lean on Ten more than he’s ever leaned on any of his previous partners.

So as they slowly meander home, Kun plans how he'll talk to Ten.

He remembers how they first met -- through their jobs, being assigned to work on the same team to launch a new product. Ten had been in design and Kun, research. At first, they didn’t work well together. It was apparent that they found each other attractive, what with the sidelong glances and appreciative stares, but it was just as apparent that Ten thought Kun was a boring, uncreative numbers guy, and Kun didn’t find it professional how Ten never stuck to timelines. He’d often leave the office while Ten was still there, chipping away at feedback from their client, and he’d return to the office the next morning with Ten looking like he’d slept the night in his chair.

Then there were the emails at 3AM in the morning from the design lead. The cans of energy drinks Kun spied littered across Ten’s desk. He made the mistake one morning of throwing them out for him, and Ten came in and saw his clean desk and ripped Kun a new asshole, going off about how Kun shouldn’t touch his stuff and the sanctity of personal space. When he’d calmed enough and stopped yelling, Kun had noticed how his hands were shaking. And when he’d asked, Ten had admitted he was nervous Kun had thrown away important notes he’d taken while he was on a call with the client yesterday. Kun assured him he hadn’t. They found the notes, and Ten apologized for losing it with him.

From there, it was better, but Kun kept a discerning eye on him. When the project was nearing its close, the energy drinks started piling up again, and Kun pulled Ten aside after all the others had gone home and told him, without mincing any words, that he was going to crash if he kept this up, and Ten had said, without mincing any words, that sometimes he needed help understanding his own limits, and that he needed someone to reign him in.

It was like a switch had flipped inside of Kun. He’d taken on submissive partners before, but most had been serving a singular, mutually agreed-upon need: release.

With Ten it was -- is -- different. Ten’s always been all-or-nothing. It’s how Ten approaches everything in life, and Kun is no exception. They explored each other that night in the office, with everyone but the security guard downstairs gone, Ten’s hands zip-tied behind his back and his mouth open for whatever Kun wanted to stuff inside.

“Do you wanna watch something?” Ten asks him. Their front door shuts behind them, and Ten tosses his set of keys into the little dish on the kitchen counter. He slides his feet out of his sandals, and Kun steps out of his shoes. “You’re so quiet,” he observes, chuckling.

Kun touches the small of Ten’s back with his palm and kisses him on the temple to assure him nothing’s wrong before turning to head into the kitchen. “Why don’t you put on something you like? I’m going to make some ginger tea.”

"Can you make me some chamomile?" Ten asks.

Kun throws him a smile over his shoulder. "Sure, Kitten."

By the time the tea is ready and Kun is walking their two mugs over, Ten's snug on the couch under a throw blanket, some animal documentary playing on their TV. Kun would love the homey, cozy scene before him, except Ten's still on his phone, undoubtedly checking emails, or responding to messages, or looking over specs. He sighs as he places the mugs on coasters on their coffee table, and Ten looks up, puts his phone face-down into his lap sheepishly.

"Thanks for the tea," he says. "You're really going through a ginger phase, aren't you? All the stir-fry you make these days has ginger in it, too."

Kun squeezes in next to Ten on the couch and pulls at the blanket until Ten gives him a corner to put over his lap. Then Ten decides it's better to lay in Kun's lap instead, so he puts his head down over Kun's thighs. "It's good for you. It's anti-inflammatory," Kun says, carding his fingers through Ten's hair.

"That implies you have something inflamed," Ten muses. He turns in Kun's lap until he's facing Kun's belly and draws his hand up so that his fingers can play over the hem of Kun's pants. "Could it be...?" He looks up at Kun from under his eyelashes and flutters them coquettishly.

Kun laughs softly. His closes his fingers into a fist in Ten's hair, not pulling, just resting his fist against Ten's scalp like that, noting how Ten's eyelids drift closed and his breath stutters at the unexpected movement. "We can play if you want, but only after we talk."

Ten whines, and it sounds like a mewl. His eyebrows furrow as he opens his eyes. "Kunkun..."

"Do you remember how we got together?" Kun asks.

Ten blanches. "Of course I do."

"Do you remember what you said to me, that night in the office?" Kun asks next. His thumb rubs against the base of Ten's skull, massaging him there. Ten's head falls back just slightly as the gentle pressure relaxes him.

"Might need a reminder," Ten says quietly, eyes going a little unfocused.

"Try," Kun growls. His fist tightens again. Ten gasps and curls up under the blanket. A twitch.

"I said, 'You can't take this can of Monster away from me. I need it to live!' Right?"

"You did say that, but that's not what I meant, and you know it."

Ten's fingers explore the area right under the hemline of Kun's pants, nails scraping lightly against his skin. He draws Kun's shirt up, baring his pale, firm tummy. With a triumphant smirk, Ten dares to push his palm against Kun's stomach. Dares to press forward and kiss him right under his belly button, Kun's hand still tight in his hair. "I said, 'Sometimes I need help understanding my own limits.'"

Kun feels his thighs spreading in his seat on the couch as Ten noses at his belly button. Ten's tongue darts out to lap at his skin, wet and warm. "And?"

"I said, 'I need someone to help me.' I said, 'Oh please, Kun, will you help me?'" He sounds satisfied with himself, and he hums against Kun's belly, alternating between leaving tiny kisses and swiping with little licks of his tongue.

Kun guides his head lower. He feels himself filling between his legs. "Yeah, that sounds about right,” Kun affirms. “And I helped you. And you helped me.”

"Oh, I remember that part, Kunkun," Ten says. His fingers pull at the hem of Kun's pants again, also catching the elastic band of Kun’s briefs and dragging the fabric lower, exposing the finer hairs that trail down from his belly button. Kun keeps himself trimmed, but not bare, and Ten exhales hot and damp over the short, coarse hairs at the base of his cock. He presses his wet, open mouth over the sensitive skin and sucks, and Kun swallows a groan.

As much as he wants badly in this moment to press Ten's face against his dick, there are more important things at hand. He remembers how Ten shook that night in the office against him, when they were done and Kun had cleaned them both up. How quickly Kun realized the power he had over the younger man, power that Ten willingly gave him. And it matters to Kun that he uses that power to continue to build the trust between them.

"Wait, come up for a moment, love," Kun whispers, his voice a little hoarse. Stick to the plan.

Ten makes a noise of confusion as Kun tugs him up gently by the hair. He follows his hand like his skull is being cradled in Kun's palm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. I just want to talk, remember?”

Ten doesn’t look convinced, his hand still splayed over Kun’s stomach. “I don’t want to talk about work, Kun.”

Kun shakes his head and allows Ten to sit up, propped up on one arm with his upper body still hovering over Kun’s thighs. “I don’t want to talk about work, either. I want to talk about you, and what you need.”

Ten makes a noise like someone’s flicked him on the nose, something between a whine and grumble, and Kun can’t help but coo at the way the blush crawls across Ten’s cheeks. His partner is quick to hide his face in Kun's shoulder, and Kun grins when he feels the press of Ten's teeth against his skin.

"What do you need, Kitten?" Kun asks, turning his face into Ten's hair. 

Ten squirms on his lap, and Kun wraps both arms easily around Ten's waist. "Six more hours added to every day," Ten says, though it sounds like he’s begging. 

Kun tsks. "Six more hours so you can run yourself to the ground, every day? Not on my watch."

"I just want things to be simpler," Ten whispers like a confession into Kun's ear. "I make so many decisions every day and it's driving me up all the walls. I never know if I'm right. I always know if I'm wrong. I worry about Renjun and not giving him a good work experience. He's so young, Kun. What if I'm fucking him over? What if I'm fucking _ us _ over?"

"You're not." Ordinarily Kun would let Ten ramble for as long as he wants, but when the tone turns self-defeating like this, he tries to cut it off before Ten digs himself into a pit he can't climb out of. "You're doing so, so well. You're making a name for yourself. You _ care _ about Renjun, and he knows it. But there's a lot happening, all of the time, isn't there?"

"Yes," Ten says against Kun's neck.

"And you want things to be simple."

"Not everything," Ten is quick to say, "just -- some things. I want to turn off the part of my brain that makes me wake up in the middle of the night to check emails. I want to remember to eat. I want to remember to kiss you in the mornings before you go to work."

Kun squeezes him tighter at the last part, a small shiver of delight racing up his spine. He's still half-hard in his pants but sometimes Ten can be so sweet he just wants to hold him and pet his hair and feed him his favorite treats. He tamps down on the urge, though, and coaxes Ten off his shoulder. It's easier for Ten to say these kinds of things when he's not looking Kun in the eye, but for this next part, Kun needs to see him.

"It's been a while since we've set some rules, Ten," Kun says, catching Ten's gaze and holding it, "and I think we should come up with a couple of them again. Create structure. Make it a game. Spice things up. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"A game?" Ten asks. If he had a tail, it'd be waving around in front of Kun's face right now. "Like when we first started dating?" At Kun's nod, he asks with a sly grin, "How do I win?"

"Simple. You follow the rules."

Ten draws himself back, shifts so that he's laying his head in Kun's lap again. Kun lets him go, stomach fluttering at the mischievous glint in Ten's eyes. "If I win, you take me out to dinner. Somewhere that we have to dress up and make a reservation for. And then you fuck me silly when we get home, okay?" 

Kun nods, quick to agree. 

"And if I lose?" Ten asks, licking his lips, hand creeping toward the waistband of Kun's pants.

"Well," Kun says. He threads his fingers through Ten's thick hair. "We'll have to think of the appropriate consequences, won't we?"

.

The rules Kun sets are deceptively simple. No emails after 8PM or before 6AM. Dinner will be eaten together. Coffee is okay, but energy drinks are not, and coffee is not food. Ten will take a lunch break daily and send Kun a picture of what he’s eating. If he decides to send other pictures along with the ones of his food, that’s up to Ten’s discretion. If Kun decides to entertain those other pictures...that’s up to Kun’s discretion.

“Piece of cake,” Ten says, still laying in Kun’s lap with his lips red and swollen. After Kun tucked himself back into his pants, Ten had been eager to talk more about the game, and so they talked while a streak of Kun’s cum dried on Ten’s cheek. “I’m totally going to win.”

“We’ll see,” Kun says magnanimously. His chest swells a bit with excitement at how eager Ten is to play. Ten’s pride has always landed him in tricky spots in the past, and if Kun were being realistic, he hypothesizes that it’ll be the same this time around. “Still, we should consider the consequences.”

“You can always tie me up and spank me,” Ten says. He giggles when Kun grips his hair roughly and gives him a shake.

“It’s not a punishment if you like it so much,” Kun reminds him.

Ten sighs, curls his body around Kun’s as Kun’s fingers loosen in his hair. Kun watches his eyelids droop and wonders how early Ten woke up this morning to find those angry emails from his client. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

“Tired, Ten?” Kun asks quietly. Ten hums in response and nudges his head against Kun’s waiting palm, seeking out his touch, and Kun gives it to him. He scratches behind Ten’s ears like his partner’s a yawning puppy in his lap. “Tell you what, I’ll think about it. You think about it, too. You have some choice in this, in what it could look like. So sometime over the next two days, show me what you think might work for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Ten agrees. His breathing slows so quickly Kun puts his other hand on Ten’s chest, just to feel it rise and fall. “Love you,” Ten mumbles. “You’re the best. You take care of me so well.”

“You make it easy,” Kun says. He’s glad Ten’s eyes are closed, because he can feel a rather dopey, smitten smile forming across his lips that he’d rather Ten not tease him about in this moment.

“Not always.”

“No, not always. But if it’s always easy, then we’ll never grow,” he says. He’s not sure if Ten hears him. 

.

At 1:30 PM on Monday, Kun’s phone chimes with a text from Ten. He flips his phone over on his desk and the image in the message flashes across the screen. It’s a small salad, plain and simple and very green. 

Kun’s office is quiet. About half of his floor is out on lunch, and the other half is back at their desks, plucking away at reports and memos. Kun’s got a meeting in thirty minutes, and he’s been perfecting the dashboard he’s presenting at the meeting on his double monitors for the last hour. 

There comes a point where there is just nothing more he can do, though, and he has to call it, so he sends the link to the dashboard to one of his teammates who is co-presenting with him for a final review before the meeting, and then he sits back in his chair, the furniture groaning with his shifting weight. He takes his phone into his hands.

_ Is that a stock image? _ he sends.

Ten’s response is immediate. _ No! Of course not!! _ Another image quickly follows, this one of Ten eating the salad, a close-up of his face and a forkful of greens near his open mouth.

Kun grins. _ Good boy. _

_ Did you eat yet? _ Comes Ten’s slightly delayed reply. Kun imagines the pet name landed with a splash of pink on Ten’s cheeks. _ If I have to eat lunch every day then you do too! _

_ That’s not how the game works. But I did. Thanks Kitten. _

_ Are you busy? _

_ About to head into a meeting. Why? _

_ Wanted to send you something naughty but I guess it’ll have to wait. _

Kun sucks in a breath. He wheels himself out of his cubicle, just enough to check that no one is watching or looking over his shoulder, and then wheels himself back in. _ How naughty? _

_ No~ I don’t wanna send it now! _

Kun imagines Ten laughing at him on the couch, the way his mouth opens so wide when he laughs without restraint, the way whiskers form at the corners of his closed eyes. He’d wrestle him down onto the cushions and put his hand over his mouth and press until Ten bucked against him, mewling and whining and turned on. He’d fit himself between Ten’s legs. 

“Damn,” Kun whispers to himself, shifting in his seat. Ten’s barely even started to tease him and Kun already wants to lay him out. He takes a couple of deep, centering breaths, thinking of neutral things -- his favorite type of tea and the aroma of the leaves, the park by their apartment, the dashboard he has to present out on in twenty minutes now. After another long, intentional breath, the heat simmering low in his belly dissipates.

_ Then show me when I get home, love, _ he sends, calm and rational. 

The next four hours are a special kind of torture.

.

“Kun, baby, I know we said no emails after 8PM, but I’ve got the meeting with the client tomorrow and there’s still a couple of--”

Kun closes the door behind him and turns the lock into place. When he slants his eyes over to Ten, the other quiets. “Hello to you, too,” Kun says as he takes off his shoes. “How was your day?”

“Hi, yes, hello. Welcome home, I love you, et cetera, et cetera,” Ten rambles, hugging his iPad to his chest. He follows Kun to the bedroom, where Kun slowly removes his messenger bag from his shoulder and leans it against the nightstand on his side of the bed. Kun turns, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as Ten lingers by the door. “Can we make an exception on the email rule tonight? I did everything else, didn’t I?”

“Everything else consists of a morning kiss and lunch, Ten,” Kun points out. “We haven’t had dinner yet, and you look a bit peaked. Did you sneak in a can of Red Bull today?”

“No,” Ten squeaks, voice going high on the lie. 

“You did. I can always tell when you’re lying.” Kun unbuckles his belt and slides it out of the loops of his slacks. He lets it fall from his hand, and the leather slaps against their hardwood floor. 

“I can’t go cold turkey,” Ten protests. “I’ll get the shakes!”

Kun laughs despite himself. He beckons Ten forward with a finger and Ten goes to him, uncharacteristically subdued while he tosses his iPad onto the bed. “That’s one strike,” Kun says, fitting his hands around Ten’s hips. 

“Three strikes and I’m out?” Ten asks to confirm.

“That’s right. Should we count this email exception as another strike?”

“We can’t,” Ten protests still. He presses up against Kun until their bellies are warm against each other. Looks at Kun with lashes half-lowered. “I got distracted for an hour looking up punishments during the day and that’s why I’m behind. So you can’t ding me for that.”

Kun laughs again, heart going soft when Ten pouts at him. He cups Ten’s cheeks in his palms and rubs their noses together. “Fine. Just for tonight. You can respond to emails for an hour after dinner. That’s another hour to make up for all the time you lost looking up porn.”

“I wasn’t looking up porn,” Ten grumbles, eyes downcast. He whines when Kun squeezes his cheeks together until his lips are like a pufferfish’s. “It wasn’t _ all _porn,” he amends.

“What was the naughty thing you wanted to show me, earlier?” Kun asks. He rubs Ten’s cheeks between his palms, his skin rosy now with the handling.

“Ah,” Ten exhales. “I’ll show you later.”

“Why later?”

“Because if I show you now, you’ll want to talk about it. And you always want to talk _ so _thoroughly.”

Kun accedes his point. “Fine, then. Show me later. I’ll put dinner on. Give me a kiss before you get sucked back into your emails.”

Ten puckers up his lips, looking alarmingly like a pufferfish again. Still, Kun kisses him, and holds him against him for another sweet moment before letting go.

.

Kun waits until Ten is nestled against him in bed, dressed only in a soft, old t-shirt to sleep in and tiny briefs and smelling of honey and cream, before reminding him about the thing he wanted to show Kun. 

“Oh, right!” Ten says, popping up against the pillows and reaching over to grab his iPad from his nightstand. Kun keeps his hand on Ten’s waist, following the movement. “I almost forgot. To be honest, I’m a little nervous about showing you…”

Kun’s mind races as his stomach tightens in anticipation. What could Ten have up his sleeve this time? Something he found earlier while he was looking up punishments, or something more personal? They’re no stranger to games, the two of them, and Kun can recall easily the number of racy photos Ten has sent him during work hours, sometimes while Ten himself was in the office. The _ same _office. Is it Ten wearing lingerie? Ten playing with himself? His mouth starts to water. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” Kun assures him as Ten rolls back around to face him, his mouth pinched as he fiddles with his iPad.

“I just came across it,” Ten says. “I’ve never heard of it before, and I thought...I thought we could try it. But if it’s too weird, tell me?” He turns the iPad around so that Kun can see the screen. There’s an article pulled up, the print small but clear, and the title jumps out at him: _ FIGGING 101: FROM ANCIENT PUNISHMENT TO MODERN PLEASURE. _

Kun sits up, too. He takes the iPad from Ten’s hands and skims the article, feeling his jaw drop. The article explains what figging is, and how to do it. He’s heard of it before, but he’s never felt the need to explore it as a form of punishment and pleasure. If Ten’s interested though…

“You really want me to stick a piece of ginger up your ass?”

Ten flushes beetroot red and snatches the iPad back from him, exiting out of the article. “It’s weird. It’s too weird. I don’t know, you’ve just been on this ginger kick and I -- I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not too weird at all,” Kun says. He draws Ten back to him, holding him against his chest. “If that’s something you want to try, then we can try it. I think it’s rather creative and unique, actually. What about it interests you?”

“The pain,” Ten says easily, but his words are muffled because his mouth is pressed to Kun’s shoulder. “I wonder if it really burns like they say it does…”

“Should have known. You’re my little pain slut.”

_ “Kun! _” Ten whines when Kun laughs, only settling when Kun soothes him with careful hair petting and kisses to his forehead. “So can we try it?”

Kun grins. He feels like a spark of electricity has just been shot through his veins. “I’ll have to do a bit of research,” he says. “Prepare.”

“Of course you will. Always so careful and thorough.” 

Kun preens. In truth, it’s a part of the process that he absolutely loves -- the research and exploration, learning something new and bringing Ten along for the ride. “I’ll be ready by the weekend,” he promises. “In the meantime, you’re one strike down.”

Ten groans and wriggles his body closer to Kun’s. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

.

On Tuesday, Ten skips lunch because the meeting with his client runs long, and by the time it’s over, it’s happy hour at the bar down the street from them. Kun comes home to Renjun on their sofa, laptop pulled onto his lap while he watches what looks like a romantic drama on their television.

“Where’s Ten?” Kun asks, frowning.

“He’s taking a nap,” Renjun says, not looking up from his laptop. “I told him not to, because it’ll throw off his sleep schedule, but he insisted he had to take a nap before you came home so he could sleep off the alcohol so you wouldn’t know he went to get drinks in the middle of the day.” He looks up now. “Oh, whoops.”

“Whoops,” Kun repeats. He rolls his eyes. “Thanks for staying with him, Renjun.”

“Oh, no, it’s for my own benefit. I need him to look over the changes I’ve made before I go.” Kun stares down at him, unimpressed, and Renjun looks away with pink cheeks after a moment. “The client went really hard on him, Ge,” he mumbles. “I felt bad.”

“This client is a nightmare and an asshole,” Kun sympathizes. “So really, thanks for staying with him.”

“Do you want me to go wake him up?”

“No, I’ll go.” Kun waves at him to sit back down when he starts to make the motions to stand, and Renjun plops back into the cushions as Kun pads to the door to their bedroom. “Stay for dinner, kid. I’m making wraps.”

“What kind of wraps?”

“Duck breast, plum dipping sauce, and rice paper. Some crispy veggies, too. Build your own.”

Renjun’s eyes go large at the menu. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ge.”

Kun opens the door a fraction and slips into the bedroom, giving them a bit of privacy. He wants the moment when Ten regains consciousness to be between them, a shared experience. Ten’s on his side above the covers, curled into himself, his head barely even on the pillow. He’s wearing black paper bag pants and a cropped sweater that has ridden up his side, exposing the skin stretched over his ribs. Kun can hear him snoring lightly.

“Kitten,” Kun calls for him in a sweet tone, sitting on the edge of the bed by his side. The mattress dips and Ten’s body sways toward him. He leans across Ten’s chest and props himself up with his arm. “Ten, my love.”

“Urgh,” Ten grumbles. His instinct is to curl up tighter and press his fists to his eyes.

“Wake up, Ten. Renjun’s still here. Keep him company on the couch while I make us dinner?”

“No...” Ten says, batting at Kun’s arm and then his face as it nears. “I’m just a cat. I have no responsibilities...meow.”

“Meow?” Kun chuckles. “Kitten, won’t you wake up?”

“Nooooo,” Ten wails quietly.

“Not even for dinner? I’m making duck breast wraps tonight. You love those.”

Sure enough, one eye squints open. “Duck breast wraps?” Ten’s stomach lets out a loud, embarrassing grumble and both hands go to it, pressing down.

“That’s right...And you didn’t send me a picture of your lunch today, Ten.”

“Because I didn’t eat lunch,” Ten admits.

“So we have to make sure to eat dinner, then,” Kun says, choosing not to mention that Ten’s broken another rule in this moment. If what Renjun shared with him about the client was true -- and Kun has no reason not to believe him -- Ten’s had an especially hard and trying day today.

“Or you could just let me sleep here, and pet my hair, and tell me I’m pretty. How does that sound?”

“We can do that after dinner,” Kun says. He pulls Ten up by his hands and grins at the way his hair has gone all lopsided, but smooths it down for him as he sits, slumped and small, his pout tugging at his lips. Without warning, Ten throws himself against Kun’s chest and wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight. Kun freezes for just a second before the surprise wears off, and he returns the hold. “Hard day, hm?”

“Yeah,” Ten says, shuddering. “How about you?”

Kun runs his hand down Ten’s back, drags his fingers up the length of his spine. “It was okay, Kitten. I’m happy to be home, here with you.”

“Should we kick Renjun out?” Ten asks.

“I’ve invited him to stay for dinner.”

“We can still uninvite him,” Ten suggests stubbornly.

“Do you really want me to do that?”

“No,” Ten says. “No, I don’t. I have to -- we have some more work to do before tomorrow. It’s not yet 8, right?”

“You’ve got a couple hours.”

“Do you need any help with dinner?”

Kun trails his hand up Ten’s back and to the base of his skull, where his fingers dig into the tense muscle there gently. He feels it when Ten drops, shoulders going slack, head tilted back slightly. Ten groans, and Kun says, “Not this time.”

“God, your fingers are magic,” Ten whimpers when Kun shifts his attention higher on his scalp. “Oh my god. Right there. Fuck, that’s so good.”

He massages Ten for another minute, just long enough for him to go boneless against him, and when he stops, Ten rewards with him with a punch-drunk smile that makes the butterflies in Kun’s stomach go haywire. Together, they breathe slowly, until the fog of arousal around their heads falls away, knowing that they’ve got a guest waiting for them outside of the room.

“I know I’ve got another strike against me,” Ten says. “But I’m not going to get another one before Friday.”

Kun smirks, endeared by Ten’s confidence. “We’ll see, Ten.”

.

Ten doesn’t break any of the rules they’ve set on Wednesday or Thursday, and Kun uses the time he has in the kitchen while he’s preparing dinner to practice carving the ginger. He’s honed his knife skills after years of cooking, and whittling the fingers of ginger he already has in the refrigerator into small, bulletish plugs comes quickly to him. After, he chops up the herb and uses it in that night’s stir-fry. 

The juices remain on his fingers. Ginger’s aroma is naturally spicy and warm, a fragrance that Kun loves. What he hasn’t really noticed before is how warm the tips of his fingers grow if he doesn’t wash the juices off right away. And when he accidentally gets some of the ginger juice into a cut on his index finger he didn’t even know was there, it feels like someone’s holding a lit match against his skin.

Luckily, he already has an aloe-based cream for burns, and just a dab of that against the inflamed area brings the burning sensation down almost immediately. And once the juice is dry, there’s no lingering pain at all.

Kun marvels at how Ten wants to try something like this. Will he be able to handle it?

Kun prepares for Friday evening in two ways: First, he makes a reservation at one of Ten’s favorite restaurants downtown, where the tasting menu changes every season; Second, he mentally maps how Friday night will go down if Ten incurs another strike. He wants to be prepared for either scenario.

He does the laundry and makes sure the towels and sheets and blankets are fresh and fluffy and easily accessible, because he knows sometimes Ten gets cold after sex. He cleans most of the toys he thinks they’ll use on Friday night and puts them back into the drawer, carefully arranged. He asks Ten to rub leather softening oil into the leather cuffs for his wrists and ankles, knowing Ten will be thinking about how they’ll feel against his skin the whole time he’s completing the task.

By Thursday night, Ten is sure he’ll win. He’s been sleeping better, eating better, even drinking less coffee. It helps that his client has eased up on him a little, after seeing the changes he and Renjun made so quickly following their in-person meeting. Sure, it’s only been two days, but it’s two days out of seven for a habit to form, right? 

And Kun is proud of him. He wants Ten to win. He wants to parade him around the city and bring him to his favorite restaurant and fuck him silly, after. But the other thing -- he kind of wants that, too. He wants Ten squirming under his hand.

“Get ready to wine and dine me tomorrow,” Ten says into his ear as they settle in for bed that night, Ten pressed against his back, arm draped over Kun’s waist.

“I am so looking forward to it.”

“This was fun. We should keep playing after tomorrow, don’t you think? We can add more rules. More consequences, too.”

Kun hums in agreement, closing his eyes. He feels Ten’s heartbeat against his back and it’s that slow, steady drum that lulls him to sleep.

.

Kun wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Again.

He slips on his glasses with his eyes still half-closed and glares at the messy sheets on Ten’s side, at the pillow carrying the imprint of Ten’s head in the middle of it. There’s a bright pink post-it note in the deepest part of the well, and Kun paws at it, bringing it closer to examine the drawing and simple words Ten has left him with.

_ Surprise morning coffee huddle with Renjun and Xuxi, _ Ten’s written. _ Miss you already!_

Underneath the short note is a doodle of a teddy bear sleeping with its mouth open and drool running down the side of its face. A kitten is curled up against the bear’s chest, and there’s an arrow pointing to the bear’s head with the words _ my kunkun _ written along the shaft. The art brings a smile to Kun’s face. 

When he rolls over to look at his phone to check the time, though, the smile falls away. Somehow he’s slept past his alarm, and it’s already nearing 8 AM. “Damnit,” he grouses to himself, taking a moment to flop back onto his pillow and wallow. He must have disabled his alarm somehow. Or Ten disabled it. He could hear Ten’s simpering excuses now: _ “You looked so tired last night, I thought you could use the extra hour…”_

It’s not the first time Ten’s done something like that and forgotten to be there to wake Kun up in time for work. He’s missed more than one morning meeting that way. After the second time, though, Kun made Ten promise he wouldn’t do that again, not without Kun agreeing to it, anyway.

So it probably wasn’t Ten. Kun probably just rolled over and hit snooze too many times and it’s his own fault he’s going to be late to work, now, and Ten’s not even here to kiss it all better.

Kun presses his lips together into a tight line, rewinding the thought that just spun past his mind like the words were written on the black tape of a cassette. Ten’s not even here to kiss it all better.

And then Kun sits up, head spinning at the sudden change in altitude.

He grins.

Strike three.

.

Sometime that afternoon, Ten texts Kun a picture of his lunch. It’s another salad. Kun swipes the notification away from his screen, as well as the following two messages asking Kun if he’s received the texts, knowing his lack of response will make Ten antsy. That’s okay. Let him squirm a bit. Familiar with how Ten thinks, Kun knows Ten will start to wonder why Kun’s giving him the silent treatment, and he’ll start to reflect back on the day, picking it apart in his brain like a jigsaw puzzle. 

Kun knows he’ll get to the answer eventually. His Ten is quick, and clever, and so fun to play games with.

An hour later, his phone chimes again. He finishes the email he was drafting and sends it before checking the notification.

Ten’s message is brief and contrite. _Kun...I’m so sorry._ _It was the easiest rule, and I forgot._

_ You did forget, _ Kun responds. _ I’m disappointed. _He doesn’t elaborate.

_ I know. I am, too. I don’t want to make excuses, but Xuxi really made it sound like he needed my help in that moment. I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time._

_ I know you will, Kitten. Everything okay with Xuxi?_

_ Yes, he was just nervous about meeting his girlfriends’ parents…_

_ You’re a really good friend, Ten. _ Kun lets a beat pass before sending his next text. _ But you’ve broken another rule. You know what that means?_

_ Yes, I know what it means, _ Ten responds. _ Sir._

A rosebud of warmth tightens in Kun’s belly. Oh, Ten is good. He is so, so good. _ Are you home now, Kitten? I need you to do some things for me. _

_ Yes, I’m home._

_ Will you be free in an hour?_

_ Yes, _ Ten sends. _ I’ll be free._

Kun grins. The rosebud turns to coal and smolders inside of him. He likes to play a long game, and Ten knows it. He’s already carefully considered what Ten will do to prepare for tonight, even before Kun gets home.

_ Good. Wait for my instructions._

_ ._

Kun stands in front of the door to their apartment, his key in hand, and adjusts his messenger bag higher onto his shoulder. His mouth starts to water as he thinks about what’s waiting for him inside, and he jams the key into the lock and purposefully jangles it around a few times to alert his arrival, knowing the sound will carry to their bedroom.

Their apartment is quiet when he enters. Their shoes have all been placed neatly in pairs to the side of the entrance-way, and Kun notices Ten’s laid out his slippers for him to step into. He chuckles at the added touch, the care in thought, though it changes little what’s in store for his beloved boyfriend tonight.

Treading next into the kitchen, he sees a hand of ginger, a vegetable peeler, and a short, sharp knife resting on a large wooden cutting board on the counter, just as he asked. The slightly knobby, gnarly bulb of the root is easily larger than Kun's closed fist, and the fingers extending from the bulb are fat and thick. Ten must have really dug around in the ginger roots at the local grocery store to find something so perfectly to Kun's specifications. He did so well. Satisfied, Kun grins as anticipation simmers in his gut.

“I’m home,” Kun calls out in a sing-song voice, taking soft, measured steps to their bedroom. “Where’s my Kitten?”

The door creaks as he pushes it open, and Kun’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight inside.

“I’m here, Sir,” Ten says in a voice barely above a whisper. He sits up in bed, hands curled loosely into fists and rubbing at his eyes. The covers fall away, pooling in his lap. A silver D-ring gleams at his throat, the centerpiece to the black leather collar wound around his neck. The straps of his matching leather harness wind around his shoulders and high across his chest, close against his skin. Kun can see, from where the covers dip low across his waist, that he's not wearing anything else. Ten shifts to face Kun, slow and a little disoriented from being awoken from his nap.

Knowing Ten's attention is on him, Kun doesn't respond. Instead, he walks over to their dresser and examines the toys and instruments Ten has laid out over the top of the surface, each one carefully placed and arranged as though they're sacred. There are the two sets of leather cuffs, buttery to the touch. Next to those, the paddle that Ten had ordered custom for Kun for their two-year anniversary -- the handle is a warm and dark cherry wood, the leather folded into a soft black loop. And next to that, a pair of black dice. When he can sense Ten about to start vibrating if Kun doesn't look at him, he turns.

"Did you put that on yourself?" Kun asks, stepping toward him. Three steps to come around to Ten's side of the mattress. Ten's body follows him to face him like a flower towards the sun, and Kun reaches out to run his hand along the leather straps of Ten's harness. He fits two fingers under the soft material, checking that it's not too tight. He does the same with the collar, and Ten whines when the knuckles of Kun's fingers dig into his throat. Both are just tight enough.

"Thought you might like it," Ten says, his voice already starting to go thin and high.

"Oh, I do, Kitten," Kun says appreciatively. "Now, turn over."

Ten flushes the loveliest shade of pink. Kun watches the movement of Ten's throat bobbing against his collar as he swallows hard and pushes the covers away from his lap and legs, and very deliberately gets onto his knees and elbows on top of the sheets, face down on the bed. "Like this?"

"Just like that," Kun says, taking in the view of Ten's bare ass in the air, his plush thighs and the softness between his legs. Standing next to the bed still, Kun palms one of Ten's ass cheeks, rubbing the skin gently, squeezing. "Did you prepare yourself like I told you?"

"Yes, Sir," Ten gasps.

Kun hums and nods. He sits on the edge of the bed and, without warning, spreads Ten open with his hands to watch his tight little hole flutter and wink at him. Ten's hips twitch at the movement, but he says nothing. "All clean? How many fingers?"

"Squeaky clean," Ten says, "and...t-two. I didn't want to do more without l-lube. I was nervous."

"Two's enough," Kun says. He uses his thumbs to spread Ten open carefully, and the stretch is so easy. Ten must have played with himself for a good long time, using just water and patience, like Kun told him to. He'd read that using lube could prevent the natural oils from the ginger from taking effect, though Kun wants to keep the lube nearby for activities following the punishment.

"Kun." Ten whines when Kun continues to prod and poke and pull at the skin around his hole, never quite touching him where he wants to be touched. He kicks his ankles against the mattress and receives a warning smack against his butt cheek from Kun's palm. "Ah!"

"We're not having fun right now," Kun reminds him, letting go of Ten's ass. "This is a punishment for earning three strikes this week. You'll call me Sir. You'll use your safe word if you want to end the scene. Do you remember your safe word?"

"Yes," Ten says. He rubs his face into the sheets and sucks in a deep, deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Say it."

"Watermelon," Ten mumbles.

"Good," Kun says, reaching over to scratch Ten behind the ears for just a moment. When Ten leans too much into the touch, Kun pulls away and stands. He goes to their dresser, pulling out a fluffy towel from the top drawer and tossing the towel to Ten, who scrambles to catch it from his prone position. “Fix the covers. I want you on top of this, as you were, but with a pillow under your hips and hands behind your back,” he instructs. “Is that too complicated for you?”

Ten’s cheeks turn red and rosy as he looks down at the towel in his hands. “No, Sir,” he says.

“Do it, now. I want you in position when I come back.”

Ten nods and Kun can see before he takes a single step away from the bed that Ten is quick to comply, nearly leaping from the mattress to right the covers. It almost kills him to leave Ten like this, so eager to accept whatever Kun wants to give him, but he has a responsibility to his partner, and he knows the long game will be worth it. He exits the bedroom without another word and heads back into the kitchen.

There, he stands in front of the cutting board with the ginger and the peeler and knife and considers how long he wants to make Ten wait for him. Not too long. They’ve only just started, after all. He smiles to himself as he rolls up the cuffs of his shirt to his elbows, thinking how Ten must already be in position on the bed, ass in the air, just waiting. Then he picks up the knife.

He considers the ginger. Four fingers extend from the main bulb, each finger thick and about as long as Kun’s index finger. He chooses the fattest and the longest looking one and carves it away from the center. Ginger is a dense root, and it weighs heavy in his palm. He peels it carefully, checking that he’s removed all of the papery, brown skin as well as the knobs and knots that form in the root as it grows. Now, it’s time for shaping.

Kun opens one of the drawers under the kitchen counter and takes out a smaller cutting board, this one about the size of a dinner plate. He puts the peeled finger of ginger and the knife on top of the board and carries all of these things with him back into the bedroom, where Ten is folded stomach-first over two pillows under his hips, his wrists crossed behind the small of his back. His ankles are crossed, too, and Kun feels a tiny spark of pride flare up inside of him when he notices. He’s so well trained, Kun thinks privately to himself. Even though it’s been so long since they’ve done a scene together, Ten still remembers everything.

Ten doesn’t look for Kun when he enters, either, even though he must hear the door creak and shut and the knife rattle on the tray. Like the good boy he tries so hard to be, Ten awaits instruction.

“Beautiful,” Kun breathes out as puts the cutting board down on the nightstand, in Ten’s direct line of vision. Already, the strong, spicy fragrance is traveling through the air. He wafts it toward Ten with his hand. “Lovely, right?”

“Right, Sir,” Ten whispers, eyeing the ginger with his chin against the mattress. “That’s -- that’s kind of big, isn’t it?”

“It’s the perfect size,” Kun says, moving to the dresser. He takes up the leather cuffs. “Put your hands out in front of you.”

Ten does so without protest, crossing his wrists again, this time in front of him on the bed. Kun gets to work binding his wrists together with one pair of cuffs, and he uses the other pair of cuffs on Ten’s ankles. His partner is quiet throughout, only shifting his hips on the pillows to adjust to the new position. Then Kun settles himself near the head of the bed, sitting down at an angle, and brings the cutting board onto his lap.

"If it gets too uncomfortable, tell me. You're allowed to use your words tonight. Tell me if you understand."

"I understand," Ten says.

"Good," Kun says again. “Now, watch.”

.

Kun is very good with his hands. When he was much younger, he played the piano for many years, and the hours and hours of practice at the keys helped shaped long, elegant lines into his fingers. He still plays sometimes, though now it's at a keyboard stuffed into the corner of their living room. When he was in middle school, he started to help his parents in the kitchen before dinner. Cooking fascinated him, how raw ingredients came together into something so fragrant and nourishing and fulfilling, but it was when he realized how complete he felt when someone he loved ate something he prepared for them that the hobby consumed him. Still does. He handles the knife with finesse, skill, and grace.

He is careful carving into the ginger. First, he cradles the fingerling of the root in his palm and whittles away at the tip to form a tapered end. The sound is wet but sharp -- _ schk, schk, schk _ \-- rhythmic as he cuts away from his hand, and tiny slivers of ginger fall to the wooden board.

Ten stares, his chin against the mattress and his back arched into a deep bow. It must be uncomfortable for him, but he says nothing. His eyes on Kun's hands start to lose focus as his cheeks flush pink prettily. With a tiny whine as Kun continues carving in silence, Ten shifts to lay his cheek against the sheets, his spine now curved to accommodate. His eyelids flutter as his lips part, tongue darting out to wet them, and Kun finally stops whittling to chuckle at him.

"Kitten, are you getting hard against the pillows?"

Ten gasps and hides his face against the covers, giving himself away. Still, he answers. "Yes, Sir."

"Just from watching me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How come? Tell me. Look at me."

With a shudder, Ten lifts his gaze to meet Kun's dark, unwavering stare. "Your hands are so pretty," Ten whispers. "Sir."

Kun grins, shoulders squaring back at the compliment. "And?"

"And I know what they feel like on me," Ten says. "In me. Around me. I was thinking about them. Your fingers. Sucking on them. How they'd feel right now around my cock."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I would, Sir."

Kun narrows his eyes. "Do you think you deserve that, Kitten?"

"N-no," Ten says, averting his gaze and flushing an even deeper shade of red. The blood must be rushing to his head from the position he's in. "Not yet."

"You're smarter than you look, then," Kun teases wickedly. Ten juts his bottom lip out into a pout and doesn't snap back. Holding the tip of the knife near his thumb, Kun starts to peel away the harder, squarer edges of the ginger at the end of its length, creating a rounded, smooth tip. "Did I say you could look away?"

Ten snaps his eyes back to the front and he glares at the ginger like it's personally offended him.

"While I'm working," Kun continues nonchalantly as though he's talking about the weather and not carving the ginger into the shape of a tiny butt plug, "let me explain how the night will proceed. I asked you to take out the dice. That's because we're going to play a little game of chance. You'll be in charge of rolling. The first roll determines how long the ginger stays in. The second roll determines how many times my paddle caresses your lovely, lovely ass. The third roll determines if we play again. Ask your questions now, if you have them."

Ten clears his throat. "How long do we play?"

Kun says, "That depends on you, and your luck." He finishes carving up the ginger and places it back on the board, waiting for more of Ten's questions to come.

"Will you use just the paddle?"

"The paddle, or my hand," Kun confirms. "Nothing else."

Ten nods. "What about after?"

"After the punishment is over?" Kun asks. Ten nods again, eyes wide and hopeful. "Then we can play, if you're not completely wrecked, that is."

"I won't be," Ten promises, a familiar, determined glint returning into his eyes.

"Sure, Kitten," Kun quips.

Ten wriggles his hips again, settling against the pillows more comfortably. His chest against the mattress, his back is curved like a tight bow, and in Kun's fingers is the bow string. He holds his hands out in front of him, palms turned upward to receive the dice. "Okay," Ten says. "I'm ready."

.

Ten rolls two three’s on the first throw. The black dice settle on the mattress near Ten's hands, and after he sees the numbers, Ten throws his smile up at Kun standing behind him, satisfied with the result. "Two three’s. Six," Ten says. "Not bad."

"Not bad," Kun agrees. He's left the cutting board and knife on the nightstand, and come back to the room after running the ginger under some cold water. He checks the dice to confirm the number. "Now breathe, Kitten. This might be very cold, and a little strange." One knee on the bed, Kun leans closer to Ten's hips. With one hand, he holds Ten open, and with the other, he nudges the tip of the ginger plug against his hole.

"It's like I'm at the doctor's," Ten muses with a cheeky grin.

"Breathe," Kun says again, exhaling for Ten to follow along, and Ten does, his body going slack, and with a couple of gentle nudges, the plug slips inside of him, the flared end of it catching against Ten's rim. "Good boy," Kun praises, patting his rear affectionately. Ten wiggles his butt in response.

"It's just cold," Ten complains, pushing back against Kun's hand.

"I'll start the timer now," Kun says. He puts his phone on the bed with the timer running down so that Ten can watch the numbers tick away. Then he sits, and he waits.

Ten frowns up at him, sighing. With a whine, he tries to inch forward to press his forehead against Kun's thigh, but the angle of his hips and the pillows keep him from being able to. Mercifully, Kun reaches out and tickles under Ten's chin, and Ten sinks down into his position again happily.

"How is it?" Kun asks.

"It's fine," Ten says. "I don't think it's working."

"Give it another couple of seconds," Kun says patiently. "It's only been a minute."

"How long is it supposed to take? I only rolled six, and the waiting is torture. Sir, can't we do something while we wait? I thought you would start spanking me..."

"Suddenly you're very mouthy," Kun comments. He removes his hand from Ten's chin to brush at the hair falling across his partner's forehead.

"Is this part of the punishment? Waiting? Because I'm still kind of hard from just watching you peel the thing and I...and I...huh..." 

Ten stills. Quite suddenly, he drops his face into the covers and groans into the mattress, rutting his hips against the pillows.

"And you what?" Kun asks pleasantly, fingers running through Ten's hair. "You what, Kitten?"

"I -- I don't know," Ten mumbles. He tries to roll his hips again, but Kun's fist tightens in his hair in warning, and Ten stills with a whimper.

"Dirty Kitty," Kun chides. "Haven't even started touching you yet." He coaxes Ten to lift his face to him by the grip on his hair. "Roll again."

Ten paws at the mattress until one of his hands hits the dice, and he scoops them both up into his palm, shaking them around a couple of times before letting them fall. Kun lets go of his hair so they can both check the numbers. Three and five. Ten lets out a small noise of disbelief.

"I think I'll start with my hand," Kun announces, moving down the bed until he can comfortably palm Ten's ass. "Count for me."

One arm hooked around Ten's waist, he sits facing the door to their bedroom, Ten facing the opposite direction. The little plug of ginger sits nestled between Ten's cheeks, and Kun gives it an experimental flick. Ten cries out, the muscles of his thighs jumping, the chains between the cuffs at his wrists and ankles rattling as he pulls them both taut.

"One?" Ten says, uncertain, and Kun clucks his tongue.

"You know that doesn't count."

"Sir, it's -- it's so -- it doesn't feel like anything I've ever felt before..."

"Do you want to stop?" Kun asks, resting his palm on one of Ten's cheeks. He twists around to face him, to try to gauge Ten's expression, but Ten's shaking his head.

"No, no. Keep going. Please."

Without hesitation, Kun brings his open palm down on left butt cheek in a light, controlled, and sliding hit. Ten should really barely feel it, but he clenches at the point of impact and cries out again, sobbing out the number "one", his thighs quivering, his shoulders shaking, breath coming fast. Kun rubs a soothing hand against the small of Ten's back and shushes him with small, uttered praises. "You're doing so well. Little Kitten. So brave, trying something new."

"It burns!" Ten wails, but his breathing has steadied.

"Try not to clench," Kun advises. He rubs his hand over the spot he hit earlier to let Ten know another one is coming. Again, he lets his palm rain down over Ten's ass gently, but this time twice in quick succession.

"Two, three," Ten hiccups, hips jolting with each quick spank. "Oh my god," he groans. Kun twists around to look at him again, and he watches how Ten's shoulder blades work under his skin, how his spine twists, the knobs of his vertebrae stark when he arches and curves. The ginger is working something inside of him, burning him from the inside out, but there's nowhere for the fire to go. Already, a light sheen of sweat has formed over Ten's skin. "_ You _ try not to clench," he mutters under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Sir," Ten says quickly in a high, squeaky tone.

But Kun heard him. He squeezes Ten’s cheek in his hand in a bruising grip, fingers digging into the muscle, and Ten keens, ankles kicking again, as he lifts his butt into Kun’s hand to try to relieve the pressure as much as he can. Then Kun lets go and smacks him, harder than before, in the same spot. The sound of skin slapping skin rings out in the bedroom, over and over.

“Four,” Ten cries. “Five, six, seven--” 

Kun’s relentless, aiming for the same location each time his palm meets Ten’s skin, high on his left cheek. At eight, Ten’s skin is bright red and radiating heat, and his chest is heaving. “Eight,” Ten sobs. “Eight, eight, eight…Take it out...take it out, please...”

The timer goes off to Ten’s begging and Kun, one arm still wrapped around Ten’s waist to keep him steady, works the plug out of him. It’s hot to the touch from Ten’s own body heat. With careful fingers, Kun touches Ten’s hole, circling the rim where it’s wet with the ginger’s juices. His skin is so, so warm, like stoked-over coals. Kun’s dick twitches in his pants when he thinks about what he would feel like inside. A furnace.

“Take it out…” Ten rambles, wiping his face on the covers between his stretched-out arms. “Sir, please. Please…”

“It’s out, Kitten,” Kun says.

“It still burns,” Ten whines, throwing an accusatory glance over his shoulder at his partner. His eyes are wet, his cheeks glistening with fresh tears. “Like a ghost ginger dick.” Despite himself, Kun laughs, and Ten pouts at him, his eyes going watery in a second as his breath shudders in his chest. “It’s not funny!”

“You can end this at any time,” Kun reminds him.

“I don’t want to,” Ten says swiftly. “Let’s keep going.”

“Then turn back around, and roll again.”

He rolls two 6’s and looks up in anticipation to where Kun is standing over him near the head of the bed now. “What’s it mean?”

“It means you have to roll two 6’s again if you want the punishment to stop,” Kun tells him, a little too gleefully. 

Ten’s face falls. “Oh my god. I’m going to die like this.”

.

The second round is 7 minutes long. Kun shaves down the ginger so that the juices and oils are fresh, and this time it only takes seconds for Ten to feel the effects, compounded by the effects of the earlier round. Five spanks with Kun’s hand leaves Ten sniffling quietly into the mattress but hard as a rock against the pillows, and Kun tenting his pants. 

The third round is 5 minutes and just four spanks, but Ten rolls a six and a one after the round is up and offers to let Kun fuck his mouth if he’ll end the punishment right then and there.

“I’m probably going to fuck your pretty mouth later anyway. I haven’t decided,” Kun tells him, peeling off another layer of ginger methodically as Ten, his hair in complete disarray and his lashes sticking together through tears, stares at the bulge in Kun’s pants. Kun watches Ten go cross-eyed and then unfocused, his eyes dark. “Roll again.”

With shaking hands, Ten rolls two and one and sags into the pillows with relief. It’s short-lived, however, when he rolls four and six right after, and Kun brings the paddle over from the dresser, throwing it down to the bed near Ten’s face. Ten groans and looks away, the sound like a punch to Kun’s gut. 

"Relax, Kitten," Kun reminds him as he settles back into place behind Ten. His ass is glowing, dark red blooming across one cheek, his other cheek still pale in comparison, and Ten's hole is puckered and pink from friction and irritation, glistening from the ginger's juices. He moans in a long, unfiltered breath when Kun strokes his finger around the rim and pushes in to the first knuckle, Ten taking him so easily. "So good," Kun praises in a whisper, before taking out his finger and sliding the freshly shaved ginger plug back into Ten's hole. 

Ten sobs, bucking his hips once before gaining control of his body, stilling and going boneless against his pillows. Kun starts the timer. He stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt, shrugging it from his shoulders. He's wearing a white tank underneath. Ten manages to twist himself in order to look at him, to watch Kun take off only his shirt, but his eyes have misted over, and Kun wonders if he's really seeing and registering what's going on in front of him, or if the steady, controlled pain hasn’t yet clouded over his brain.

"You with me, baby?" Kun asks. His shirt falls to the floor.

Ten whimpers and rolls his shoulders as much as he can in his position, nodding in a tiny movement. "Yes, Sir…" He trails off, clearly wanting to say more but holding himself back. He blushes, shy. 

Kun finds it tantalizing, the way Ten chases after pain, the way it knocks Ten sweet and humble and so eager to please. "What is it?" he asks gently.

"Your arms…" Ten whispers. "You've been working out."

Kun laughs, flexing his arms so that the muscles become more defined. Ten licks his lips. "You trying to flatter me so I'll go easy on you during your paddling?"

"Is it working?" Ten asks.

"No," Kun says. "Don't forget to count." He takes up the paddle, stands beside the bed, and snaps the leather once against the bottom of Ten’s foot, grinning when Ten’s toes curl and he yelps at sudden shock. The ginger nub jerks in his hole, and Kun knows he must have clenched around it.

“One!” Ten sobs. 

Kun lets the leather rest against Ten’s calf. He trails it up the back of Ten’s leg slowly and, as the wood warms in Kun’s hand, rubs the leather end lovingly over Ten’s right cheek. With a flick of his wrist, he taps the paddle against Ten’s skin.

“Two,” Ten whispers through his teeth, bowing his head and anticipating what’s to come.

Kun draws his hand back as Ten holds his breath, and the air stagnates for a split second before Kun swings the paddle in an upwards arc and makes contact. The impact crackles between them.

“Three!” Ten gasps, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles are white. Kun spanks Ten with the same movement, the same speed and force, quickly and without pause. Ten’s ass jiggles with each hit, and a wet spot starts to grow on the pillow covers under his hips. The sound is like a whip snapping. Ten’s skin turns pink quickly, then red, then dotted with wine as bruises form under his skin. “Four, five, six, seven--! Sir, wait--!”

Kun does not wait. He knows Ten can handle more, and he knows how to push him. The power and responsibility and trust he holds in his hands makes his own blood sing -- a hot, delicious fire coursing through his veins. He keeps going, and Ten keeps going, too.

“Eight,” Ten cries, his shoulders shaking now, even as he arches his back into the hits, his body asking for the torture. “Nine...ten…”

Kun throws the paddle down onto the bed, sweat trickling from his temples and down his neck, and takes a deep, deliberate breath to calm his racing pulse. Ten quivers in front of him, his body tight around the pillows, hitched up onto his elbows. The timer goes off, sounding very far away. Kun silences it with a swipe of his finger across the screen of his phone, and goes to Ten, curving his arm around his waist again and easing the plug out of him. He reaches over to put the root back on the cutting board.

Ten sticks like a leech to his side, needy, seeking his touch. “Please,” Ten begs, trembling. He’s hot like a fever. “Help me.”

“I bet your pretty little dick is so hard right now,” Kun says, his voice rough with arousal. 

“It is,” Ten gasps. “It is, Sir. It’s so hard right now. Please, please--”

“I want to see.” Kun pulls Ten up by his harness, his grip around the strap high across Ten’s back and above his shoulder blades. 

Ten moves like a doll controlled by its master, but hisses when he must settle with his ass over his feet to stay in the position Kun has put him in. Unhindered by the pillows snug against his belly now, Ten’s dick slaps against his own stomach as he sits up, wet and shiny with precum, a deep, flushed red at the crown. He holds his bound wrists up near his chest, elbows tight against his sides, turning his nose into Kun’s neck when Kun tucks himself in behind his back and gifting Kun a tiny, wet kiss against his fluttering pulse.

“What does it feel like?” Kun asks, trailing his hand down Ten’s front. He dips his finger into Ten’s belly button and Ten’s stomach jumps away from his touch on reflex.

“Hurts,” Ten says. “Burns. Like I’m too close to the sun.”

“You’re taking it so well,” Kun praises. “The root. My hand. The paddle. Like you were made for this.”

“I was,” Ten says, slurs. “Made for you.”

Kun’s heart almost falls right out of his chest at the gravity it suddenly holds, the weight of Ten’s words. Ten’s there, that space in his head and body where pain is pleasure and love is Kun. He kisses Ten’s temple tenderly and allows his hand to travel lower, until his palm is hovering over Ten’s hard, dripping cock. He can almost feel it pulsing, like a magnet trying to pull his hand in closer. “If you cum right now, I’ll be very upset,” Kun whispers into his ear.

“No, Sir,” Ten cries, sagging against Kun. “No, I won’t.”

“Sometimes you can’t help yourself,” Kun continues, dragging his finger lightly up the length of the underside. Ten’s mouth opens on a silent cry, his body rigid, his breath hot against Kun’s throat as another bead of precum trickles from the tip of his dick. “You’re so wet. You like this so much. You’re so fucking hard. You’re the dirtiest little kitten I know.”

“Yeah…”

Kun mouths at the back of Ten’s earlobe and sucks the thinnest part of the curve between his teeth, petting Ten’s cock with his finger as Ten moans and shivers against him. Then he bites down on Ten’s ear and cups his palm over the head of Ten’s dick, rotating his wrist in small, quick circles, applying focused pressure.

Ten bucks into his hand and moans brokenly and endlessly, alternating between begging for Kun to stop and whining for Kun to finish him off. “Please, ah! Please let me cum, please fuck me, please, Sir, please…”

“So close,” Kun whispers, licking where he’s bitten him. “So good. Don’t cum. Don’t cum yet.” He rubs his hand over the head harder, faster, and groans when Ten spasms against him and squirts into his palm with a sob. Kun pulls his hand back when Ten’s shaking has calmed. The slightly sticky, clear fluid coating his palm is still only precum. “Good boy,” he murmurs to the back of Ten’s neck, kissing him there as he smears his hand over Ten’s heaving chest. His heart is racing as quickly as Kun’s. 

He gives them both reprieve to the count of ten, and then he says, “I’ve made a decision,” knowing Ten can feel him, hard and hot, through the rough cloth of his pants, digging into the small of his back.

“What’s your decision, Sir?” Ten asks, breathless and exhausted, shaking with the effort of not cumming. He turns in Kun’s hold and paws at Kun’s chest with closed fists, his cuffs rattling as he trembles and whimpers and tries not to rut against Kun’s thigh. 

“Your punishment is over,” Kun announces.

Ten’s gaze flicks up to him, eyes round and bright and hopeful. 

“You took everything so well,” Kun says, cupping Ten’s cheek in his palm and kissing him once on the tip of his sharp nose. “Now get on your back, baby.”

The other side of the bed is nearly untouched, and Ten lays down on top of clean covers, his hands still held close to his chest, knees bent and together. He looks up at Kun in confusion when Kun starts to undo the cuffs at his ankles. “Sir?”

Kun throws the cuffs to the floor, the chains rattling against the wood, and climbs onto the bed. He spreads Ten’s knees with his hands and positions himself between them, and then he puts a palm on either knee and pushes Ten’s thighs apart, until he can push no further and Ten is splayed flat against the bed, his cock curved against his belly and his hole, fluttering and vulnerable, on full display. Both ass cheeks are still red, though the color is fading, from their punishment game. “Do you need your hands to keep your knees where they are now?” Kun asks.

Ten shakes his head, his whole face and the top of his chest pink with embarrassment. He can barely look at Kun. “No, Sir,” he squeaks.

“Good,” Kun says. “I’m going to eat you out.”

Ten’s dick pulses against his stomach. Kun thinks he can actually see his balls tighten. Ten’s still looking up at the ceiling, his face so dark now he looks sunburned. He chuckles at his boyfriend, crawls forward over his body to drop a kiss on Ten’s pec. He kisses down the side of Ten’s ribs, over the crest of his hip, and mouths at his ballsac with soft presses of his lips, sucking only lightly. Ten gasps and whines, but doesn’t move, and Kun feels a little thrill run up his spine. Restraints are great and all, but what’s better than a sub who won’t move a muscle even without them? 

Kun bumps his nose against Ten’s dick before moving down to lick at his perineum. Ten, unlike Kun, keeps himself completely bare and hairless pretty much from the neck down, claiming he likes how ‘clean’ it feels. Kun feels plenty clean with his own body hair, but he can’t deny that it’s lovely being able to eat his partner out without needing to worry about choking on a stray pube. 

He kisses him near his rim, and when he licks at his own lips, all he can taste is spicy, warm ginger. “Does it still hurt?” Kun wonders, diving back in and kissing Ten around his hole.

“Yes,” Ten hisses, bearing down against Kun’s face. “An after-burn. Throbbing.”

“Mmm,” Kun hums in consideration. “Wonder what it’d be like to fuck you while you’re still feeling it.” Experimentally, he flattens his tongue and runs it over Ten’s hole.

“Oh,” Ten moans, back arching against the bed. “Oh, fuck.”

“You taste good,” Kun says, doing it again. And again. When Ten’s hole is wet and glistening with his saliva, Kun licks into him in shallow, quick thrusts.

“Ohhhh,” Ten keens. He kicks his heels out but this does nothing to alleviate the pressure of Kun’s tongue in his ass, so the tiny tantrum makes Kun laugh. 

He goes back in with his thumbs holding Ten’s hole open so he can thrust his tongue in deeper. Ten pants above him like he’s just finished a sprint as Kun laps at him like a dog to water. It doesn’t take long for all of Ten’s words to start to slur together again, and this is when Kun starts to work his fingers into him. 

He’s already loose from his own preparations and the ginger, and Ten takes two of Kun’s fingers easily, Kun’s tongue wetting the way. He’s so hot inside, hotter than usual, and Kun suspects the ginger is the cause. It must feel like he’s being rubbed raw. When Kun scissors his fingers inside of Ten, his knees fly up, his thighs squeezing around Kun’s head.

“Sir!” Ten cries, breathing hard through his teeth, and Kun has to pull his fingers out, laving his tongue around Ten’s rim to keep him relaxed.

“I got you, Kitten,” Kun assures him, rubbing a soothing hand up and down the back of Ten’s left thigh. “You’re fine, you’re good, you’re doing amazing.”

“I’ll cum like this,” Ten whines.

“No, you won’t,” Kun says. He spits into his hand and presses two fingers back in, and then he slowly, carefully, works in a third. “Look at that,” he says in wonder. “You’re still fine.”

Ten’s eyes roll back into his skull. He rocks back and forth on the bed, mumbling nonsense to himself and keeping his eyes closed, as Kun fingers him until the spit starts to dry. Before Kun pulls out, he hooks his fingers inside of Ten and searches for his prostate, and when he finds the hard little gland, Ten shouts, throwing his head back against the covers. 

“There it is,” Kun teases wickedly, rubbing the mound inside of him twice just to see Ten buck and shake and cry openly.

“Please let me cum,” Ten’s begging now, voice thick with tears. “Please let me cum. I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please? Please, I can’t anymore--”

Kun shushes him. He takes his fingers out and yanks his tank up over his head, throwing it to the side, and pulls a condom from his back pocket. Ten goes quiet in an instant, watching Kun’s every move as he reaches over him to the nightstand and pulls the drawer open, rummaging around inside and taking out a small bottle of lube. He’s wordless, still, as Kun unbuttons his slacks and draws down his zipper, letting his pants pool around his knees on the bed. He swallows audibly when Kun takes his dick, hard and thick, out from his briefs.

Kun rips open the condom package and quickly rolls the condom over himself, and then he flips open the bottle cap of the lube and squirts a sizeable amount into his hand. He coats himself with it, circling his hand over his dick, giving himself a few extra pumps. He squirts more lube onto his fingers and slaps them over Ten’s hole, smirking when Ten flinches at the cold gel. Kun likely won’t last long, but that’s okay, because Ten won’t either.

Ten swallows again as Kun hovers over him, caging him between his arms. “Please,” Ten whispers.

Kun lines his dick up with Ten’s hole. With slow, measured thrusts, he works himself in. 

Ten is, in a word, incredible. He’s tight all around him, and so, so warm. A perfect sheath for Kun to fuck. When his pelvis is flush against Ten’s ass, Kun stills, sweating and trying not to shake. Ten’s eyes are pinched shut, a wrinkle forming in his brow and over the bridge of his nose. Fresh tears track down his face, and he’s not breathing.

“Hey,” Kun says, nosing at Ten’s jawline, kissing his cheek and his nose and finally, his lips. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t, Sir,” Ten whines.

“Why not? Does it hurt?” 

Kun starts to pull back, worried he missed something, worried he’s overdone it, but Ten squeezes his thighs around him and says, “No. Wanna wait for you...”

Kun’s chest fills so quickly with so much affection and love that he’s afraid he might pop like a balloon. He smiles wide, beaming with happiness, but Ten can’t see him. He drops down to kiss him again, his hands in Ten’s hair as he starts to move his hips. “You still have to breathe, though. With me. Now.”

“Uhnnn,” Ten mewls. Kun slides in and out of him, heat deliciously building between them quickly. He kisses Ten’s open, wet mouth, sucking the sounds out of him, the gasps and hitched breaths and cries, the long moans, the high, chirping whimpers. Soon, Kun is fucking into him fast and hard, and Ten shakes with it, cries and sobs as his poor, neglected dick bounces against his belly and Kun’s hips snap against his abused ass cheeks.

It builds inside of Kun like thunder. He can feel his climax rumbling inside of him, closer and closer. When he knows he’s seconds away from orgasm, he reaches between their bodies and wraps his hand around Ten’s cock, forming a tight circle so that Ten can fuck his hand in time with Kun’s thrusts. 

“Can I?” Ten whines. “Can I? Please?”

“Almost, baby.” Kun grunts, pistoning his hips against Ten’s ass. 

“Oh,” Ten moans. “Oh, please, please, please--”

Kun tightens his hand around Ten’s cock as he climaxes. In the same moment, he feels it when Ten’s dick spurts thick ropes of cum between their bellies. Ten clamps down around him, body tight and shaking, and this is what Kun fucks into as he empties his release into his condom. White noise fills his ears and a wonderful fuzziness fills his head. His hips work without his brain needing to follow, and he thrusts into Ten with the last of his orgasm. 

When the white noise and fuzziness clears, Ten is still shivering. He’s cum all over himself and Kun, and he’s crying, the heels of his palm pressed against his eyelids.

Kun’s heart jumps to his throat. “Kitten. Oh, Kitten. Look at me.” Carefully, he uses his clean hand to pry Ten’s hands from his face and drops a kiss to Ten’s forehead when he sees Ten’s glistening eyes and cheeks. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Ten shakes his head, a fresh wave of tears rising and falling from his eyes. Kun quickly removes the cuffs from Ten’s wrists and drapes his body over Ten’s, heedless of the sticky cum between their bodies, and holds him close. “You’re okay,” Kun says quietly, punctuating his words with kisses, “you were amazing. You did so well. You’re so lovely, my Kitten. My Ten.”

Ten clutches at Kun’s back, unable to speak. When Ten’s body calms enough to stop shivering, Kun says, “I love you. I’m pulling out now. We’ll get cleaned up just a little and then we can come right back, maybe get some water and snacks? And I’ll hold you until you get tired of me.”

“I won’t get tired of you,” Ten says quietly. 

Kun smiles at that, runs his fingers through Ten’s hair and kisses him again. He pulls out slowly, Ten sighing against his mouth, and ties off the condom. “I have to throw this out,” Kun says. “I’ll be right back.”

Ten makes a noise like a whimper but nods again, and Kun moves as quickly as he can off the bed and into the bathroom to toss out the condom, where he also grabs a couple of hand towels. Then, he dashes into the kitchen, fills up a glass of water, and opens the fridge to take out a container of bite-sized rice balls he prepared earlier in the week. He brings all of these things back to the bedroom, where Ten is curled up on his side in bed, and gets to work.

He cleans Ten up as well as he can with the towels and the wet wipes in the nightstand, and strips completely before wiping himself down. His side of the bed is still relatively dry, so he coaxes Ten under the covers there and molds himself into a pillow for him against the headboard, letting Ten curl up against his chest, his legs thrown over Kun’s lap. He holds the glass of water up to Ten’s lips, and urges him to drink.

“That was a lot, hm?” Kun asks, knowing Ten likes to come out of it hearing him talk about anything and everything and also wanting to check in with him more explicitly. “Did I push too hard?”

Ten shakes his head. He puts his arm around Kun’s shoulders and hides his face against his neck.

“Kitten, I need to hear you.”

“No,” Ten whispers obediently. Kun knows Ten won’t lie to him. Not about this.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Ten says. “I’m okay.”

Kun kisses his hair. He thumbs at the top of Ten’s cheek, the part of his face that isn’t hidden against his neck. “I love you so much,” he says.

“I love you, too,” Ten says, a smile tucked into the corners of his mouth as exhaustion makes him sag against Kun. “I love you, too.”

.

Kun watches Ten carefully over the next couple of days. By the middle of the week, Ten’s noticed and become exasperated with him. “I’m not gonna drop,” Ten says over dinner at home, shooting Kun a wide, sincere smile. “So stop worrying.”

“I can’t help it,” Kun says. “What we did this weekend was really intense. We hadn’t done anything like that in a long time.”

“It _ was _intense,” Ten agrees, “but you took care of me. You always do.”

Kun lets the matter drop for the rest of the meal, choosing instead to try to focus on how Ten’s felt lighter and happier and more himself over the past couple of days. Just yesterday, a newer client sent over a long, nitpicking email on a prototype Ten sent over, and Ten read it, checked the time, and decided to watch _ MasterChef _ with Kun in the living room instead. 

When they’re done, Ten brings the dirty plates over to the sink and runs the water over them, letting them soak, and Kun sidles up behind him at the sink and holds him from behind, feeling how their bodies instantly mold to each other’s forms. 

“It really wasn’t too much?” Kun asks.

Ten turns around in his arms, and Kun’s hands fall to his waist. Ten plays with the front of Kun’s shirt with his fingers, buying time before answering, and Kun’s gut twists suddenly in dread and guilt.

But then Ten says, “It really wasn’t too much. But it _ was _ a lot. I’m glad we tried it, but I don’t think I want to do the ginger stuff again…It made everything... _ more _, you know? Once was enough for me.”

“We’ll never do that again,” Kun says immediately, breathing out in relief. “Never.”

“Great,” Ten says. He bites into his bottom lip when Kun doesn’t move. “Um, I love you?”

“I love you, too, Ten,” Kun says. “I love you so much, and I know it’s important that you establish yourself right now, as a freelancer, but I notice and I worry when you push yourself so hard to the point of collapse.”

Pink dusts across the tops of Ten’s cheeks. “I know,” he says. “That’s why I made up a new rule for myself.”

Kun raises an eyebrow in question. “Oh?”

“Yeah. No asshole clients,” Ten quips, grinning.

“Not sure how that works exactly, but I trust you,” Kun says.

“Come here,” Ten says, pulling at Kun’s shirt now. “My bear, so worried about me, hm?”

“I’m right here.” Kun’s voice drops lower as he puts his hands on either side of Ten on the counter.

“Closer,” Ten whispers against his lips.

Ten kisses him, and the feeling brings Kun right up onto his toes. When Ten slides his palm over Kun’s ass, Kun’s mind wanders to their drawer full of toys, and he wonders what they can bring out tonight.

.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos ♥️ thanks for reading!
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya) | [my cc](http://curiouscat.me/andnowforyaya)


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